


How Atlas Speaks

by TheBarghestsNotebook



Series: A Man Called Atlas [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Comfort, Emotional Fluff, Fluff, Other, short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 04:03:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14804000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBarghestsNotebook/pseuds/TheBarghestsNotebook
Summary: Being Captain America is hard work. When the uniform comes off, Steve can't keep being so loud.





	How Atlas Speaks

**Author's Note:**

> More of a character study, I think. But I needed something quiet.

Steve Rogers has a small voice. Away from the cameras, away from the destruction, away from the constant need to be a leader. His voice was no longer and commanding, no longer projecting across battlefields. It was small, soft, quiet. Sometimes he barely spoke above a whisper, not having the heart or the energy to make it more audible. Sometimes he was too afraid to break the precious silence. Silence was more than gold to him, more precious than any material substance. To be able to sit on the corner of the couch and just draw, or read, or write, or think, or do anything that barely made any noise. He would hate to interrupt that. Many times after long missions Steve would communicate through notes with me. It’s not that his jaw was sore or hurt, but he just couldn’t bring himself to speak. Maybe he gave the wrong order, maybe he said something he shouldn’t have, maybe he just couldn’t stand the sound of his own voice anymore. I never asked, I never pried. He didn’t need that from me.

But when he was out of those moments, when his brain reconnected to his mouth, his words were hushed and breathy. Afraid of being heard, too tired to be loud. I had trained myself to hear him, to know what he wanted without having to ask again. It had taken a while, but Steve appreciating the effort made it worth it. The days of him being mute were never the same amount, sometimes he only a few hours, other times I’ve seen him go over a week. When I needed sound during those times, I would wear my headphones and keep it at the lowest setting. One ear but in and one out in case he needed me. Notes would be passed back and forth, always short, always quick. They were never conversations, really. Just asking what’s for lunch or dinner, asking if I could grab something for him from the store, telling me that he loved me.

There were always hearts on those, always cute drawings in the corners. I kept those in a stack in my bedside table. Rubberbanded together, I would take them out and read them when he was away. I appreciate them so much. That even in his silence, he would find a way to let me know he loved me. I’m always afraid that during those times I wasn’t giving him the same amount of appreciation. 

But I was respecting his wish to be quiet.

“Hey,” he had said to me, his first word in eight days.

“Yes?” I said back, my voice barely above a whisper. Breaking the silence couldn’t be all at once. It had to be almost as quiet as before.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be so...distant.”

“It’s okay. I understand.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. Be as quiet as you need to be. For as long as you need to be.”

Silence was our love. Because within the walls of our apartment, he didn’t have to be loud.


End file.
